


Brooklyn and Essex Girl

by SnowAngelss



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowAngelss/pseuds/SnowAngelss
Summary: 1943. Somewhere in France.A female British spy has been captured by the Nazis due to a simple mistake in a flyover. She is forced to tell what she knows about the United Kingdom's war plans. She tells all she can after being tortured and beaten until she could barely move. In doing this, she reveals the story of a spy she knew quite well: Brooklyn.





	1. December 1943-Somewhere in France - Imprisoned

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first work ever, and I feel like it is decent. I am a beginning writer, so I am completely open to some criticism and suggestions. So to begin this I want to say that the story is loosely based off of my favorite book: Code Name: Verity by Elizabeth Weiss. I do not own the characters within the story either! This is a test run, a bit of a short chapter, so I'm sorry if this isn't very long.  
> Please comment, leave kudos, whatever! Thank you!

_How did I get myself into this mess._

_Why did I let them talk me into this._

_Why me._

_Why me._

_Why me._

_Well to be fair, no one expected the mission to go this wrong. Everyone said this would be a routine flyover, nothing could go wrong. No one expected everything to go wrong. I honestly never did, neither did she. Just thinking about her stupid smile and the golden hair that was always a mess gives me a headache. I really don’t know much about anything useful._

_Let me tell my story. I was born in London, raised in a tiny village in Northern Ireland. I was sent off at the age of nine to study in Switzerland. The academy was rather nice, a decent all girl’s school for its area. Not that I know much about these things. I returned back to London with little knowledge of what was really going on. I was 16 when I returned to find an American at my small village months later._

_Well to be fair, the village wasn’t THAT small. It wasn’t a city or anything, it was situated next to a small river. It had maybe 19 shops at the time I left and maybe 28 when I came back. All the stores still had the same scent as they did when I left. Cinnamon and fresh bread. I found the scent flowing throughout the place incredibly comforting. There was always someone playing some violin composure on the street for some spare coins. I won’t lie, I often found myself dancing around with some of the lads my father worked with. We were all friends in the village. We’d have festivals all the time and we would have parties in the village. I was a really happy girl, trust me._

_That is, until my father left my mother and I. He just left us out of nowhere. My mother became a mess. I often found her sobbing in her room with her flowing red hair sprawled and tangled on the pillow, asking what she did wrong. She really loved my father, she always had. I still remember their 15 year anniversary when I was four. My blonde hair was braided and swaying as I danced with my older brothers. My mother was dancing with my father happily, I never saw her that happy again. They were both smiling and moving quickly to the rhythm of claps, small drums, and violins. The music was happy and lively. Our small house was full of friends dancing on the wooden floor. When we had to go to bed, my brothers and I ended up watching the dancing and drinking games until late in the morning. We usually fell asleep on the stairs. Well, they did. I always stayed up later, intrigued by the way the skirts twirled around the floor. I always watched how my father would win all the drinking games and  my mother would talk with all the village women about who my brothers would tease and who they thought would tease me. I always found it fun. But here I am missing the point again._

_You people keep asking me for information when I can’t give you any at all. I can’t say much about anything. I don’t even remember quite why I got myself into this mess. I remember seeing my brothers leave to join the services and myself barely turning an eye. I don’t know why I’m scribbling this down as someone translates this into German. But I can tell you the story of one woman: Amelia Jones._

_That girl was something else. She was always happy, even when we were being attacked. Her hair was golden brown and silky, her eyes blue and sparkling. She was always wearing a brown jacket from her home in the states. The first time I saw her she was recruited from the states as a pilot in training._

_I remember the day she shook me awake. All she told me, still with her stupid American optimism, “It’s time Essie.”_


	2. Tosser.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tosser- A person who acts like they are better than everyone else around them

Now to start.

I don’t know how to explain myself, but I can explain Amelia no problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We first met when I was relatively new at the base. The day was cold, wet, rainy, not a good day for flying but we had to anyways. Our superior came in suddenly. We all stood up, our uniforms in pristine condition. Well, except for mine. I was much smaller than everyone. My uniform barely fit my small body. To be honest, small is an understatement. Nevermind that.

The husky man stood before the other women and I with a rather tall woman behind him. Our superior wore his well-decorated and neatly kept uniform with pride. The front of his jacket was panelled with gold and silver medals with colorful ribbons. None of us knew what any of them were for, nor did we ever ask. The man himself didn’t seem very terrifying; In fact he was kind to us. Not much to distinguish him from any other decorated man in a military suit.

That woman behind him though. She was something else. I must’ve caught her eye, because she looked me over and scoffed? I couldn’t believe it. SHE SCOFFED AT ME? _Must_ _be_ _American_ , I said to myself. Ugh I hate new recruits. I may have been relatively new myself at the time, but every new recruit always thinks they’re some kind of big deal. Tosser, I thought to myself.

“Kirkland.” He said to me.

“Yes, sir?” I replied

“You have the honor of training Ms. Jones here to do her job correctly.”

I was in shock. _No way am I training some idiot. An **American** at that._ I don't hate Americans; I just hate this specific American. We hadn't been in the same room for more than a few minutes, but I knew for a fact that we would have a problem. Of course I didn't say that loud.

“Yes, sir.” Was all I said before going back to my seat with the American girl at my heels.

All she said to me, “Hiya! Name’s Amelia Jones, native of the U S of A!”

Bloody hell she was giving me a headache. I didn't know what to expect from her. Especially not what happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah sorry everyone I know I haven't been active! Besides being a new writer I am an artist and a varsity athlete so I've been busy heh. Sorry this chapter is a bit weak I plan on writing longer chapters when i have a bit more time!


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